


Experiments In Lichtenberg and Petrichor

by a_ghostlight_for_roman



Series: Serial Killer AU [1]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Serial Killers, Animal Abuse, Animal Death, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders is a Serial Killer, Fire, Gen, Gore, Kid Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, No beta we die like Virgil's hamster, Not yet but we'll get there, not human gore. animal gore
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 06:01:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29273628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_ghostlight_for_roman/pseuds/a_ghostlight_for_roman
Summary: Virgil Aster has always loved storms. He has always loved the damp darkness before the rain, the static when he touches doorknobs, the humidity so thick it's difficult to breathe, and, most importantly, the lightning. He has always loved the lightning most; The way it crackles, flashes, and booms. He has always loved to run in the rain, to jump in the puddles it has made, and to let it soak into his clothes. It makes him feel most himself.
Series: Serial Killer AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2149812
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6
Collections: TSS Fanworks Collective





	Experiments In Lichtenberg and Petrichor

**Author's Note:**

> Skip to the end for more details on the gore/death/abuse warning

Virgil Aster has always loved storms. He has always loved the damp darkness before the rain, the static when he touches doorknobs, the humidity so thick it's difficult to breathe, and, most importantly, the  _ lightning _ . He has always loved the lightning most; The way it crackles, flashes, and  **_booms_ ** **.** He has always loved to run in the rain, to jump in the puddles it has made, and to let it soak into his clothes. It made him feel most himself.

\---

When Virgil was just a newborn, his mother had run through the rain. When the lightning flashed across the sky and its residual thunder made itself known, she had expected him to scream and thrash and fuss, just as any other baby would. 

He did not. 

He never had, but it surprised her nonetheless. When she finally made it into her home, away from the rain and mist and beautiful, illustrious  _ lightning _ , she decided the theme for the still-unpainted nursery could be rain.

\---

When Virgil was six, his class went to the library.

“Now go, find one fiction and one nonfiction book to read,” his teacher had instructed, setting the children loose. Though Virgil’s reading ability was still quite new and undeveloped, and he only knew enough to read the basic children's books, he found himself drawn away from the children's section and into 551.6, in which he'd seen a dark blue and purple cover highlighted with the white-hot lightning that he knew came from his favorite thing: a  _ storm _ . He gathered as many books on the subject as he could carry-- although it felt like a lot, it was only 3-- and made his way to his teacher to confirm his selections. Her brows furrowed but quickly smoothed, a light smile on her face.

“You’re interested in the weather! Would you like to be a meteorologist when you grow up?” she asked.

“Um,” Virgil paused for a moment-- yes he was interested in storms, and that  _ was _ the weather, but what was the word she'd used? “What's a meter-ogist?” The teacher gave a small laugh.

“Someone who can tell what the weather is going to be! They tell reporters what to predict for the week. They can tell when it’s going to be sunny, or when it’s going to be cloudy, or when there’s going to be a big storm out, and all sorts of other things.” Virgil’s eyes went wide. They knew when the storms were going to be? He could do that?!

“They know when the storms’re gonna come? Lightning and stuff too?” he asked.

“Yes, lightning and stuff, too. I can help you find more books on it if you’d like, but I can only let you take out one fiction and one nonfiction, so we’re going to take back a few of the books you picked.” She held out her hands, and Virgil’s face scrunched as he looked at the book covers. Hesitantly, he gave her all but the one he’d first picked. She helped him pick out his fiction book-- which ended up being about storms as well, since she could tell he was interested in them-- and after all the other children had left the library, she pulled him aside.

“Don’t tell anyone,” she said with her finger up to her mouth in a shushing gesture. Virgil’s face lit up as she pulled out one of the nonfiction books he’d given her.

“But you said one nonfiction--” he started.

“There’s no harm in a little extra knowledge,” she said, “but only this once, okay?” Virgil nodded vigorously.

“Thank you!” He said quickly, rushing to be the caboose of his class’ line back to the classroom.

\---

When Virgil was ten, he got his hands on “Frankenstein’s Dog,” among other Goosebumps stories. His parents had been hesitant to let him read horror (it wasn’t  _ really _ all that scary, but for a ten-year-old, it certainly could be). He binged it all in one night, not because the story was particularly interesting, but because of the fascinating  _ process _ of it all. Creating a monster with  _ electricity _ ? 

He looked over to his bookshelf. Over the years, it had been filled with a variety of books, but most predominant were his collection of lightning-based stories and textbooks. He already knew that lightning made electricity and that a cloud-to-ground bolt could produce upwards of a billion volts, and he’d recently learned the scientific method in school: Research, hypothesis, experimentation, troubleshooting, and data collection/presentation…

It seemed he had some experiments to plan.

\--

When Virgil was eleven, he reread Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein for the tenth time. After he finished the last few words, he closed the well-worn paperback cover and shoved it back into the pocket of his raincoat. The pages had been soaked many times before, but he had  _ plans _ today and didn’t want to spend hours salvaging the pages by drying them with a hairdryer and rewriting the faded words. Again.

He pulled out his dad’s working gloves from his right pocket and put them on before unzipping his left pocket, quickly grabbing the animal inside.

His dad had recently insisted that he have a pet, and although his mother had shot down the idea of a dog or cat, she had compromised with the suggestion of a hamster. It was perfect for Virgil's plan.

Holding onto it as tightly as he could, he put it into the puddle beside him. Leaving his left hand on the hamster, keeping it from escaping, he grabbed the lithium battery he’d pried out from his phone with his right hand and, after steeling himself for a moment, he took a deep breath and dropped it into the water, throwing himself back quickly.

It smoked and bubbled for a moment, and he was disappointed at first. He’d expected a big boom, or a shock, or something-

  
  


Before he could finish his thought, he heard a deep  _ hiss _ , and the bubbles on the water burst into flames. The hamster had long-since gone rigid, and Virgil watched as its fur lit on fire and its skin melted away. The smell was awful, and he could hardly stand it, backing up further and covering his mouth and nose with his hands. If he hadn’t been so transfixed by the fire and crackles and smoke and slowly-burning hamster flesh, which had begun to melt away and show its teeth and brains and innards, and why did it look so appealing  _ why was it so fucking pretty _ , he would’ve heard his mother’s fearful scream and footsteps running towards him. He would’ve felt her pulling him away, and he would’ve heard her dialing 911 to report the fire that had spread from the puddle to the bushes lining their driveway.

Once the fire department showed up and put out the fire, thankfully just before it could do more damage than burnt flower beds and a bit of discoloration of the roof of their porch, and Virgil was back in his room, laying on his bed since he was grounded until further notice, he looked over to the now-empty cage on his dresser.

He had to do this again.

**Author's Note:**

> Beginning at the paragraph starting with "He pulled out his dad’s working gloves from his right pocket" and ending at the paragraph ending with "spread from the puddle to the bushes lining their driveway," Virgil electrocutes and kills his hamster. There's slightly-detailed description of it burning.


End file.
